


Nate’s Lost His Mind—The Perfect World Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Sexual Content, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Nate’s view of a perfect world is a bit disturbing, almost downright bizarre. Takes place during season four.





	Nate’s Lost His Mind—The Perfect World Job

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a bit trippy. Not sure where this came from. I think I was reading some magazine article, possibly from The New Yorker. I tried to go back and find it, but couldn't. Maybe I dreamed it up! Very stream of consciousness in parts. Only a bit of sexual situations, that's why I had to rate it as such. Also, a bit of Nate and Parker. No, not that way!

Nate’s Lost His Mind—The Perfect World Job

 

Nate’s view of a perfect world is a bit disturbing, almost downright bizarre.

 

They were all perfect, all of them.  Not one mark on their bodies.  They were all so perfect. So why did he want to scream at them to wake up? This wasn’t real. This reality was not real. These weren’t his friends, his family.  They didn’t even know who he was.

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Ford.  Here are the papers you asked for.”

He knew this guy. He had worked with this guy in the past. He wasn’t a face that one would forget.

A little over six feet, dark skin, wide grin, walked like he owned the place. Best hacker in the world in his opinion. Only this guy wore a dress shirt and tie, passing mail around.

“Hardison?”

“Yes, Mr. Ford.”

Did Hardison ever call him Mr. Ford?

“We know each other, don’t we?”

“Of course. I bring you your mail every morning. I deliver all the packages to your office. I have been for two years going on, let me see, last February.”

Something caught his eye, a movement in the distance that caused him to flinch ever so slightly.

“Last February?”

Nate slowly sat down at his desk, looking but not seeing what kind of papers lined up, neatly arranged into straight piles.

“Are we friends?”

Hardison looked at him and smiled. That wasn’t his smile, Nate thought. It looked so fake.

“We, uh, work together. So, I guess you could call it that. I’m just going to go now.”  Hardison slowly backed out of his office, looking around at others passing by.  “You, you take care now, Mr. Ford.  Yeah. Just. Yeah.”

It was almost like he was frightened at what Nate had just said. Friends? Why would Alec Hardison be frightened of being friends with him?

Another flash of movement had Nate moving his body to the side, just so if he could see what it might have been. It had moved so fast, he didn’t even know, didn’t think it was real.  Shaking his head, he headed back in, trying to get the lay of the land so to speak. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing only moments before.

Papers. Hardison had given him papers. Opening the envelope, he pulled out photographs. His first thought was that it just didn’t make sense. Was that who he thought it was?  The phone in his supposed office rang, drawing him out of his thoughts. Might as well answer it, he thought. Whoever was on the other end of the line might give him some insight into what was happening.

“Come downstairs. Go outside.”

Before Nate could even say hello, someone had given him instructions.  Maybe whoever was on the phone could answer some questions for him.  Grabbing his coat, he quickly put it on, closing the door behind him. 

As he looked around, he noticed how intense everyone seemed, working on problems he knew nothing about.  There was no chit chat, no going to get coffee. People moved and worked efficiently. Tucking the envelope inside his jacket, Nate hurried to the elevator banks, hoping that whatever was going on with him could be resolved so he could get back to work.  A few people joined him in the elevator, but no one said hello, or even acknowledged his existence.

As the elevator descended, Nate kept thinking that something was just not right. Why was he going outside?  It pulled at him, made him want to find out what in hell was going on.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ford. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Eliot. Uniform. Suit with a tie. Red tie, dark blue jacket, sensible shoes, laces tied up so that he could run at a moment’s notice. When had he told Nate to look at the shoes? Very distinctive shoes.

“Oh, no. I have a meeting. I’ll be back shortly.”

“If you need for me to call a car, I can.”

“No, no. It’s a nice day. I’ll walk.”

Eliot looked at him strangely, like that’s not what Nate would usually do.

“I’ve been cooped up too long. Good to stretch my legs.”

It was like Eliot needed reassurance that Nate knew what he was doing.

“Walk?  Ok. If you say so.”

Eliot always questioned his plans, always told him what he was doing was wrong. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Plans? Where had that come from?

“Yeah, I say so.”

Plan G, after going through plans A through F. Something went wrong. Something was wrong.

Eliot’s very short hair. What was wrong with that?  His face was smooth, no scars. 

“You alright, sir?”

Eliot Spencer never called Nate sir. Bastard maybe. But never sir, unless... It was just out of his grasp about why he’d never called Nate sir.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Nate reassured him.

The lobby was chilly, cold looking, sun hazy bright outside.  Everything had its place. People smiled politely, passing him by as he headed toward the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Eliot asked him as he took Nate’s arm in his large hand.

“No, no. I’m fine. I got this.”

Only ‘I got this’ was yelled into a deep, dark chasm.  Shaking his head, he looked back at Eliot.  Nate could see a bit of tension between his eyes, like he was worried for Nate.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Call me, Nate.  Pick up your damn phone,” Nate heard off in the distance, Eliot’s voice, but not this Eliot. Never this Eliot.

Nodding, Nate headed through the door, out into the so-called wilderness of urban life. Only it was way too quiet. How quiet it was hit him full force. Boston was a lively city, cars, people. Only this was not his city. Sure, people walked, cars were being driven. No honking of horns, no blaring of music, no screeching of tires, no shuffling of feet. Something was wrong.

Looking down at his clothes, he noticed that he was dressed almost the exact same way everyone else was.  Suits, ties, sensible shoes, dark dresses, hose, hair pulled back, perfect.  Nate reached up and touched his hair, expecting to find the messy curls he never could tame.  His mother often complained when he was a teenager that she was going to come at him with a pair of scissors.  The girls like it, he told her, hoping she didn’t catch him unaware one day, scissors in hand. They’d been his signature. When they were long and unruly, then his life was chaotic. When they were short and tamed, life was calm.  His hair was rarely short, even when he worked for IYS. Shorter, yes, but never this short.

Nate whirled around, staring at his reflection in the glass of the building.  Very, very short. Not a buzz cut, but close enough.  Close shave too. Tie perfect. He always hated his tie too close to his neck. It itched, strangled him often.  Pulling on it, he inched it down a notch or two, earning him a few looks from passersby. 

Glancing around, he wondered where the phone caller might be, where she wanted to meet. And yes, it was a feminine voice. In the back of his mind, he recognized it. Nate just couldn’t place it. Who was it?

His phone rang again.  As quickly as he could, he answered, hoping that it was the caller.

“Nate, sweetheart.”

Maggie. It was Maggie on the phone. Maybe she’d know. She would help him figure out what was going on in this strange world in which he’d woken up.

“Maggie.  I need to talk to you.”

More passersby stared at him, at his outburst. This world was too quiet, he thought. Too quiet. He could hear himself thinking. It was too loud. His thoughts were too loud.

“Please remember that we have the recital tonight.”

“Recital?”

“Yes. Sam’s recital. Didn’t you write it down?”

Sam?  His breathing sped up at that name. Sam? His son?

“Sam?” Nate asked.

“Yes, Sam. This has been on the calendar for months.”

“Yes. I remember.” No he didn’t.  “Can I speak to Sam? Is he home?”

“Dear, are you alright? You sound a little tired.”

Nate was now turned to the building. He could see people pass by in the reflection, but he didn’t have to look directly at them. Inside, he could see Eliot look at him strangely again.

“I must be. You know, working hard.”

“Don’t work too hard.”

Maggie sounded too cheerful.

“Maggie? Sam?”

“Oh, right. Here he is.”

Nate dragged his hand through his short hair.

“Hello, Dad.”

The voice sounded familiar, but older, much older than the boy of eight he remembered.

“Sam? Is that you?”

“Yes, of course. Mom said you were going to come to my recital.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Your work.”

His work?  That office upstairs? What work?

“It can wait.”

“Just…”

“It can wait,” Nate said more forcefully. “You’re more important.”

“I understand.”

He understood? What did that mean?

“Oh, Nate. Sam has to practice. Practice makes perfect. See you soon.”

Maggie hung up before he could say another word. Closing his eyes, Nate leaned up against the glass of the building, trying to steady his heartbeat.

“Mr. Ford?”

That voice. It wasn’t the voice on the phone. No, he’d remember if it was this voice.  Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Sophie Devereaux in the flesh. Where everyone else was wearing dark clothing, her dress was red, blood red to match her lips and heels.

“Sophie?”

He turned so fast, he almost fell over.

“Mr. Ford?”

Her accent was the same, the same British accent, but there was something not quite right about it. There was no slight lilt to it, like she was trying to hide the fact that she didn’t grow up exactly in the posh environment she loved to have everyone think. Closer to Annie Kroy, but not exactly Sophie Devereaux.

“Annie Kroy?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Ford. Who is Annie Kroy?”

Nate squinted at her, attempting to see if she was playing him.

“Katherine Clives?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Taking his hand in hers, she led him over to a car, tapping on the window for it to move off after they climbed in. Did he miss the meeting? Was this supposed to be the meeting the person on the phone told him to go to?

“Sophie, where are we going?”

The red dress rode up her thighs, exposing her soft flesh for him. She smiled back at him. When Sophie wanted him, really wanted him, there was something she did with her eyes, her mouth, twisting it just so. It was her tell. No one knew it but him. There was no twisting, only a slight smile.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she answered.

“Sophie, something isn’t right. I talked to Sam.”

“His recital? You’ll make the recital.”

“Sam’s dead, Soph.”

“No he’s not, silly.”

Nate’s intake of breath had Sophie looking at him strangely.

“Are you alright, Nate?”

“No, I’m not.”

Get me out of here, he could hear himself screaming to no one in particular. It was all in his head. He didn’t scream at this Sophie though. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t scream.

The car finally slowed to a stop in front of a hotel. Leading him by the hand, she directed him to the elevator banks.

“Where are you taking me?”

She smiled back, but didn’t answer.  The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. Still leading him by the hand, she opened a door at the end of the hall. Maybe now he’d get some answers to why and what was going on.

Sophie placed the key card on the table along with her small purse. Turning to look out the window, Nate couldn’t even fathom what was going on.

“Nate, look at me,” Sophie said behind him.

The light was still the same outside that it had been when he made it outside the first time. Something whizzed by, almost too fast to be real.

“What’s going on, Soph?” he asked as he turned.

His eyes went wide with the picture before him.  Sophie, decked out in a matching bra and panties, the same color as the dress she had on, which now lay on the floor. That was the first thing he’d seen in this world that wasn’t perfect.  The wrinkles, the fact that it lay there, not over a chair or hung up in a closet.

“Playing hard to get,” Sophie said as she walked over to where he stood.

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“If you think too much, you’ll never make the recital.”

Her arms slid up his, digging into his neck as she pulled him to her. Her lips felt soft and inviting. Now this he remembered. The kiss was perfect. The right amount of pressure, the fact that she angled her head just right.  Sighing, she brought her leg up between his, hitting all the right spots, making him moan with pleasure.

Taking her head in his hands, he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue in without invitation. She tried to pull back, but his hands held tight. Crushing her body to his, he took charge of the kiss, turning it from a perfect kiss to something much darker. Sophie struggled a little, pushing at his shoulders for him to back off, let her breathe. He wasn’t going to do as she wanted.

Wrenching his mouth off of hers, she caught her breath, looking at him with shock on her face at his actions. Instead of heeding that warning, his mouth moved down to her neck, sucking and biting until she was struggling again.

“What? Don’t you like it? Tell me, Sophie. You always liked me rough before.”

“What?”

Something in him snapped, like he knew that this was not his Sophie, but he didn’t care. He’d push until she told him to stop.

“This isn’t…”

“Right? Do you think I care?” he warned.

Instead of being called out, which is exactly what Sophie Devereaux would do, this woman’s body softened ever so slightly. And no, it wasn’t a con. No way could this woman pull off what she’d just done and make it a con.

He’d forgotten in all this that he was indeed turned on just a bit by what they were doing.  Having her hand travel down and palm him made him groan in frustration and pleasure.

“If this is what you want.”

“No, this isn’t what I want,” he told her as he grabbed her hands in his, yanking her against his body. “Tell me who you are.”

“Nate,” Sophie whined back.

Now that could have been his Sophie.

“Why’d you bring me here? Where is the caller?”

“Nate, what’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me? You ask me that?”

She had the gall to ask him that?  Perfect room, perfect Sophie in red made the perfect fantasy. Only now Sophie wasn’t perfect. Her hair was messed up, bra strap hanging down. Her carefully applied makeup was smudged. That dress was still wrinkled, on the floor instead of a hanger.

“Why am I here?”

“You’re my three o’clock. Remember?  Every Wednesday, three o’clock. If you had wanted it rough, you should have told me. I don’t do rough. Why don’t we start over?”

Nate was in shock.  What had she just said? Her three o’clock? Before he could even move, she was down on her knees directly in front of him, expertly unbuckling his belt and on to his pants before his mind caught up with what she was attempting to do.  Before he could yank her away, stop her forward progress, she had him up and out, mouth descending until she enveloped him in the heat of her mouth.

The scene shifted so fast, Nate didn’t have time to react, much less take in what he was feeling.

“Nate, hold on. Do not let go.”

Parker was yelling at him, from somewhere above him. 

They were gone.  They were all gone. Why couldn’t he just let go?

“Dammit, Nate. You listen to me. Do not let go.”

Nate’s head snapped back to what he thought was present day. He had Sophie’s hair in his hands, yanking her mouth back and off him.  Jesus, why did he do that?

“Nate, you’re hurting me,” Sophie told him as her hands came up to tangle with his to make him let go.

Instead of continuing, Nate collapsed to the floor directly in front of Sophie. Another flash had him holding his head in anger and pain.

“How did you get here?”

Sophie looked startled by his question.

“I don’t understand.”

Hugging her legs to her chest, he could see that she looked a bit frightened of him at that moment.

“Your story.  Soph, you’re a prostitute. You’re not supposed to be doing this.”

“It’s what I do. It’s perfectly legal. Are you ill? Is there something I can help you with?”

Perfectly legal?  He had lost his mind. That must be it.

“Where’s Parker?”

“Who?”

The hazy sun was still shining outside, the air conditioner kicking on at that moment in time.  The room was nondescript, a bed, a nightstand, a chair, a desk. Nate arose to go look in the nightstand drawer. It wasn’t there. Rummaging through the desk, all he could find was a pad of paper and a pen. 

“Ok, there’s usually a bible in one of the drawers.  It’s supposed to be there. I just, I know.”

“A what? A bible?  Nate, you really are scaring me. Maybe we’ll just cancel this week’s session. Come back next week after you’ve had time to rest.”

“Session?”

Nate also realized there was no television nor was there a phone by the bed.  He reached into his pocket and found his cell phone though, so that technology existed.

Another flash had him dropping his phone on the floor.

“Nate, hold on,” he heard a voice off in the distance.

“Did you hear that?”

Sophie twisted her head back and forth, wondering what was going on with him. Nate didn’t know what was going on with him. All he knew was these were not his friends, his family. He needed to get away, regroup and figure out how to get out of this world.

“Listen, darling, we should…”

“What did you just call me? You’ve called me that for the past fifteen years. How… how…”

“I’m leaving. Until you can work out what is happening to you, I won’t be taking you as a client.”

“Dammit, Sophie. I’m not a client. I’m your, I’m your…”

“Nate. Nate. Look at me.”

Nate opened his eyes to find Parker staring at him, worriedly looking him over for injuries.

“Stay with me, Nate.”

“They’re gone,” he groaned.

“No. They are not gone, do you hear me?”

Parker was upset about what he’d said, but he was just telling her the truth. She needed to know the truth.

“We are going to fix this. Do you understand?”

His chest felt like it was on fire in addition to his hands. Holding onto the ledge in the elevator shaft had taken almost all his strength. If Parker hadn’t gotten there when she did, he would have fallen to his death.

“I was supposed to protect them.  If they hadn’t been here, none of this would have happened.”

“We are going to get them back,” Parker cried.

Nate grimaced as Parker attempted to help him up.

“This is what we are, Nate,” Sophie whispered in his ear. “In a perfect world, this is what we would have become.”

Hardison worked in an office building in a mailroom, Eliot was a security guard and Sophie was a sex worker?  Where was Parker in all this?  He was supposedly still married to Maggie, Sam was still alive, he still had a job. What job he hadn’t figured out yet. 

“In a perfect world, Nate, I don’t exist. I never would have existed.”

Instead of Sophie standing before him in her red outfit, Parker appeared out of nowhere.

“I’m damaged. I was born damaged.”

“No, Parker. You’re not damaged. I can help you.”

Nate slowly rose from the floor where he’d collapsed in front of Sophie. His head still spun, still didn’t understand why he was where he was.

“Nate, Nate. Look at me.  I’m not sure I can lift you out of here without help.”

Nate looked up to see Parker standing over him. The elevator shaft loomed above him, smelled like oil and dirt. It choked him, made him cough and sputter.

“I can’t do anything about the head wound right now.”

Reaching up to the back of his head, Nate felt what Parker must be talking about.  He’d hit his head extremely hard at some point.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Parker sighed. “They’re just, gone. We’ll figure this out.”

“Nate, push your tie up. It’s almost time.”

Nate stared at Maggie. Hair pulled back into a severe bun, she ran her hands over his suit, straightening it as she smiled up at him.

“Recital?”

“Oh dear. You really are working too hard. But it’ll all be better after tomorrow.”

They both stood in a lobby, what looked like a school.  Very few people roamed around and the ones that were there sedately headed for a door off to the side.

“Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

“Graduation.”

Nate had no idea what she was talking about. 

“Sam’s graduation. Did you hit your head today at work?”

The flash off to the side didn’t tell him anything, but as his hand came up to the back of it, he knew he must have.  Bringing it back around, he noticed blood on it. Lots of blood.

“It’s time,” Maggie called from the door off to the side.

Parker’s fingers dug into what little space was left of the door to the elevator exit onto the floor above them.  Her face gritted in concentration and strength. 

“Son of a bitch,” she groaned out.

Finally it gave an inch, then another inch until it was open enough for her to get her arm wedged, to provide enough leverage for her to open it enough so that she could get through.  Thrusting her hand down, she nodded for him to take it.

“Can you?” Nate started.

“Come on, come on.”

“Come, Nate. Time to take our seats.”

Maggie led Nate to a seat near the front. Not too close though. People sat quietly. No cameras, no cell phones out.  What shocked Nate though was the lack of color in anything.  Dark colors, sedate colors, hair in perfect order, shoes polished. Everyone had rings on the correct fingers.

Nate sat down where Maggie had pointed. The blood at some point had disappeared, but that didn’t mean his head hurt any less.

Parker pulled him through the door, panting once his torso was through, once his feet cleared.

“Oh god. You’re heavier than you look.”

“Parker, where are we?”

The corridor was dimly lit, paint chipping off here and there, trash littering the floor.  A light flickered off in the distance, not giving them much illumination in which to see.

Parker put her finger up to her lips to be quiet. Nate heard nothing, but knew that the woman’s hearing was probably infinitely better than his.

The music flowed beautifully, violins, cymbals crashing, drums beating a tune that was familiar. He couldn’t place it exactly.  Scanning the players, he finally saw the person he was looking for, but it wasn’t his Sam. This Sam was much older, standing at attention as he played the trumpet. Oh god, he was playing a trumpet. Nate gripped the handles on the seat so tight his fingers were turning white. His intake of breath alerted Maggie that something was wrong, so her hand came up to grip the back of the one that was beside her.

“The finale.”

Blood ran down underneath his hands. Was there something cutting into his skin, hurting him?

“Dammit, Nate. Focus,” Parker chastised him as they crept down the dark corridor.

The smear of blood on the wall in front of him told him that someone had passed by there recently, was hurt. Was that because of him?

“Are they dead?”

“No,” Parker answered him.  “It’s not going to end that way.”

“End? Isn’t it the finale?”

Maggie turned at his voice, knowing that he’d spoken out during the recital unnecessarily.  Heads swiveled his way, looking at him to be quiet.

Standing up abruptly, Nate headed toward the stage, wanting to talk to Sam, to find out what he knew.  There were audible gasps as he passed them, shock apparent on all their faces.

“Sam, I need to talk to you.”

Sam looked at his father, shaking his head no, like he was embarrassed by what his father was doing.

“Sit back down, Nate,” Maggie urged.

“Where are they?” Nate called to Sam. “What did you do with them?”

Sam lowered the trumpet and looked at him oddly.

“Dad?” he called out.

“Where’s my family?” Nate growled back urgently.

“Nate, Nate. You cannot have a panic attack right here. Listen to me,” Parker urged him as she held his head in between her hands.

Blood coated her pale fingers. It must be his. It had to be his.

“Where’s my family?” he cried.

“Almost there,” Parker told him.

Pushing against the door, it finally gave way once Parker put her shoulder into it. The room was run down, curtains half hanging, dirt and grime covering the windows.  That same hazy light shone in, just like in his memories.  The only sound that floated through the air was rough breathing, like someone had been in a fight, ragged sounds of lungs that couldn’t gather enough breath.

He wasn’t good enough, fast enough, smart enough this time. He’d failed, even worse than on The Maltese Falcon. There it’d only been him injured. 

“Nate,” Eliot wheezed back to him. “Sorry.”

Eliot sat on the floor against a mattress frame, holding Sophie’s dangling hand. Blood was everywhere. One of Eliot’s eyes was swollen shut, his lip bloodied.  Bruises were everywhere on him that Nate could see.  Blood caked his hands, streaking across Sophie’s limp hand. Just below Sophie’s prostrate body was Hardison, arm outstretched to touch Eliot’s leg. He wasn’t moving.

“Hardison?” Parker cried out.

“I tried,” Eliot sputtered out, blood now coming out of his mouth.

Nate could see the blossoming pool of blood now spreading out on the floor. He had no idea who or where it was coming from, only that it would make it to where they were standing in a few minutes time.

“We have to help them,” Parker said as she pleaded with Nate to move.

“Too late,” Eliot sighed as he slumped over, hand falling from Sophie’s.

“They’re not dead. You promised, Nate. You promised.”

He couldn’t tell if Sophie was breathing. Her dress was torn in places, no shoes, hair matted, bruises on her arms and legs. 

“He’s not breathing,” Parker called out as she felt for Hardison’ pulse.

Nate reached for Sophie, pulling her hair away from her face. Her eyes stood open in death, skin cool to the touch. Her cheek had a large gash in it, blood caked where it had bled while she was alive.

“They’re gone, Nate. We can’t, I can’t.”

Parker’s hands were coated with blood off the floor.

As he backed away, Nate heard footsteps, pounding up a set of stairs.

“We need to go, Parker. We should go. We have to go,” he urged the last of his family, pulling on her elbow.

“This is your fault.”

“I don’t understand what happened. Please tell me what happened,” he grimaced.

“Dad, what happened? What’s wrong?” Sam pleaded as Nate stood on the stage next to him.

The lights shone down brightly in his face, stunning him into not moving any further.  The blank faces in the audience looked back at him. Only Maggie looked a little distressed, but even she wasn’t his Maggie, the one who should have railed against him, told him he was wrong in going up on that stage.

“I must be working too hard, Sam.”

“You should sit back down. Rest,” Sam urged him, trumpet now gone from his too large hands.

Sam had grown into a young man, taller than he was, eyes just as blue, hair a bit longer than his was, but still severe in cut. It was straighter than his was at that age. The shape of the face was all Maggie, but the eyes were definitely all his.  This was his son, what he would have looked like if he had survived the cancer that slowly ate away at his tiny body until it couldn’t fight any more.

“You’re dead,” Nate surmised, looking his son in the eyes.

“I’m right here. We’re all here.”

Nate twisted around, to view the audience again. They were all gone now, even Maggie and her perfect hair and perfect outfit.

“It’s just you now, Sam.”

“Yeah, it is, Dad.”

“So this is what a perfect world would have gotten me.”

“No, probably not.  In a perfect world, no one dies, no one gets hurt, the good guys win every single time.”

Nate sighed. “The good guys never win. We only cut our losses, take what we can get when we can.”

“Dad. Don’t you understand?  No one is perfect. Never will be. Even you with your schemes and plans and contingencies.”

“I didn’t have one, with you I mean. I didn’t have a plan or any contingencies. They said you were going to die. I couldn’t figure out how to save you.”

Sam smiled back at him. It was Nate’s smile, most definitely his smile.

“You’re human, Dad. Sometimes you’ll fail no matter how many contingencies you have in place. No matter how smart you are, how much you plan.”

“Don’t you tell me it was fate,” Nate cried.

“It was life. Now get back to living it.”

With that, Nate was thrust back into the living, no dead teammates in a barren room, no perfect world where everyone was a robot. Of course now he’d have to figure a way out of this one now.

“Elevator shaft,” Nate grimaced, realizing what he’d experienced was probably due to head trauma, i.e., a concussion from the fall he’d suffered.

As he tried to move, he recognized the fact that he was stuck, literally. Something was pinning his leg so that he couldn’t stand up. Some kind of debris or a fall must have caused this.  He twisted and turned, but couldn’t get free.

“Gotta get out of this,” he mumbled to himself. “They’re never gonna find me in here.”

With no earbud in place, he wondered how anyone would find him stuck in a dank elevator shaft. The light was very dim, almost where he couldn’t see anything.

“I am not going to die in here.”

He turned his head, arching his back to that he could see what was behind him.  A pale hand was mere inches from his head, not moving. Now the elevator shaft made more sense. His vivid dream made much more sense.

“No, Parker. Parker.”

She wasn’t moving. Reaching back, he was barely able to touch her fingertips, but that didn’t tell him whether she was alive or not. As he stretched back as far as he could, Nate finally managed to grasp her wrist. His leg that was trapped made him scream in agony with the stretch, but this was more important. Her steady pulse told him that she was still with him, thank goodness. He didn’t know what he’d have done if it had been nonexistent. 

Ok, ok, map it out in your brain, he thought. Large elevator shaft or some kind of shaft where there were no doors.  Or he couldn’t see a way out because of the poor lighting.  He was pinned at the furthest end of one side, while Parker was on the opposite side. He couldn’t see her hair, so it must be under some kind of cap. She was dressed all in black which probably meant a job in progress. He was dressed in jeans, regular button up shirt, no tie, jacket. Normal for him, so he definitely was not conning anyone on this job.

“Parker, you have to talk to me. Wake up, please.”

He’d felt a heartbeat, although he couldn’t hear her breathing, probably because her head was turned away from him. And his concussion wasn’t helping matters one bit.

“Cell phone,” he concluded as he started to check his pockets.

Nothing. Not even his wallet.  So this wasn’t an accident. If it had been, there would have been a wallet, possibly keys in his pocket. Sure, they could have fallen out. Inside his jacket was an envelope, pictures of each of his team.

“Ok, perfect world. Contingencies.  Job.  Me pushed. Parker climbed down?  Was also pushed. Or she fell trying to get to me.  Must mean the others know where we are. No earbud for me.  Was she trying to save me? I can’t let her die down here. I have to think.”

Nate’s head pounded as he tried to think of a way out of this.  If he fell down the shaft, then why was his leg pinned?  Collapse. Something collapsed on top of him. Still didn’t explain the lack of any personal items on him.

Reaching back again, Nate grasped Parker’s wrist and pulled. He just hoped he wasn’t hurting her, but he had to find out whether she still had an earbud or her phone. Parker elicited a small groan at his movements of her, but didn’t seem to be conscious.

“Parker, now would be a good time to wake up so you can help me get you out of here.”

His hand finally came in contact with her head, which was indeed covered with a cap to cover her blonde hair.

“Ok, hands, hands. Don’t, stop dragging me. Yuck.”

“Parker?”

Parker moved her head to look him in the eyes. 

“Ouch. I told you not to move.”  Nate had no idea what she was referring to.  “The floor gave way.”

“Floor?” Nate asked.  “I thought we were in an elevator shaft.”

“Too big. It’s a basement of some kind.”

Parker came up on her elbows, holding her head as she attempted to bring her knees up under her.

“Oh god, now that hurts,” she told him.

“Head wound?”

“Yeah, you get those when you fall a gazillion feet onto a hard surface.”

Instead of getting up, Parker lay back down on the hard surface right next to him.

“Parker, my leg’s pinned underneath something.”

“Great. Just great.”

“I’m dizzy, hallucinating. I dreamt I was in a perfect world.”

Parker snickered at that.  “I once dreamed that I could defeat a Sterenko.  It was almost orgasmic.”

“Sophie in a tight, red dress,” Nate added.

“Matching underwear I bet.”

Nate really did not want to go there with Parker.

“How do we get out of here?” Nate asked.

“Well, in a perfect world, the guys would show up with a rope or possibly a ladder.”

“In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t exist.”

It was almost like he was back in his vivid nightmares, Parker haunting him, telling him that in his perfect world, his whole team was worthless.

“I’d like to believe in a perfect world, you would have had a family that loved you and that you grew up safe.”

“I like this world better. I do have a family that loves me and keeps me safe.”

“Except for sending you crashing into a filthy basement.”

“Hey, you can’t have everything,” Parker joked, smiling at him.

It didn’t take long for Eliot and Hardison to find them, with Sophie leading the charge to pull them to safety. Being lured into a trap was not at all what he had counted on. The abandoned building was never a good place to take a meeting.  Eliot just glared and pointed at him as they lifted the heavy piece of the wood that was pinning Nate.

“He made us,” Nate had concluded as Eliot got him to the surface.

“Ya think?”

 

“You really should see a doctor,” Sophie chided him that evening after looking after his cuts and bruises. “That hard head of yours can only take so much.”

“It’s not like they can actually do anything about a concussion. Besides, I have the best nurse in the world looking after me.”

“If you think for one minute I’m going to dress up as the naughty nurse, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Not that I wouldn’t mind the visual. But no, that’s not what I want right now.”

Sophie was cuddled up against him in his bed, one finger tracing slow circles on his bare arm. The room was dark except for a small light by the bedside. 

“What do you want?” Sophie sincerely asked him.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like in a perfect world?” Nate asked.

“Damn boring if you ask me.  I’d probably be settled, 2.5 children, dinner on the table at 6pm sharp. To bed by 10. As I said, boring.”

Nate took the hand that was tracing circles on him and raised it to his lips.  “I wouldn’t want Sophie Devereaux to ever be bored. She most definitely would never be boring.”

“Not likely. You have never been boring.  Ass, bastard, maybe even a bit sadistic, but never boring,” Sophie told him as her mouth made its way over his collarbone.

 

“Why are we sitting here?”

“Just wondering the same thing.”

Nate wondered if Sam would reappear in his dreams.

“I guess you still wanted to talk about your so-called perfect world scenario.”

“If you would have survived…”

“I didn’t. Not much you could have done about it then and not anything you can do about it now.  Remember if you had a perfect life, I wouldn’t exist.”

Nate’s sharp intake of breath said it all.  He had realized in the back of his mind Sam probably wouldn’t have existed if he’d had a normal childhood. He wouldn’t have sought out the spouse that he did, the job that he had, the eventual family he formed after it all came crashing down. As Sophie had told him, he never would have been the boring man he thought he had wanted to be. Chaotic, half crazy, but never boring.

His life would never be perfect, but he’d deal with whatever was thrown at him now.  Burying himself in a bottle may have eased the pain just a little.  Being around the four most important people in his life was now his perfect world.

As Nate slowly made his way down the stairs, he heard their voices. Hardison and Eliot were arguing about something. Parker laughed a bit maniacally, Sophie stepped in to referee.

“Are we too loud?” Parker yelled to him.

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to the coffee.  Just another day in paradise.

 

 


End file.
